


assess and step back

by painting



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painting/pseuds/painting
Summary: hamilton has a cold at camp.





	assess and step back

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write this really long defensive essay in the notes about how hard i tried to be historically accurate or w/e like some dweeby nerd but instead it was more like an effort to not be glaringly inaccurate while i indulged myself.

Alexander reliably fell ill in the summer, every year like clockwork, with a fever reminiscent of his infirmity in the Caribbean. He’d told this to Laurens in confidence once, and then reminded him again when trying to make an argument for his employability during a damp evening in the fall.

“I know you might think otherwise, but you’re not the only man on His Excellency’s staff,” Laurens said to him, Alexander’s pallid complexion evident even in the dim candlelight and shoddy fire, both working together to act as a poor remedy for the new season’s early sunsets. “You know you will be better off of your feet for one day than at half-speed for several?”

“That isn’t true!” Alexander had confided in Laurens during lunch, confessed to a headache and sore throat after being prodded about the bags under his eyes for nearly half an hour (they never really went away, but they had become particularly pronounced overnight).

“No?” Laurens prompted. Alexander had said earlier that he knew his body well enough to recognize when something was wrong enough to confine him to bed, but Laurens hardly trusted him to take the time to assess his well-being in the first place.

He’d seen Alexander sick on a mild level before, often when the weather would change to confirm the start of a season. Although Laurens suspected that in normal conditions his friend would not have been so quick to come out with the truth, they both understood the serious nature of an illness during a war with little resources and few chances to rest. Alexander continued, “I’m not on my feet at all when I’m writing.”

His voice was already starting to fade.

“Okay,” Laurens said. He held up his palms to indicate surrender, and Alexander grabbed them briefly and brought them to his own face.

“Can you feel this, my dear Laurens?” he asked. His voice had adapted a playful lilt to it, shifting from a hard defensive quality to a loose one in an instant. “No fever. An ache under my eyes is nothing to worry about. I might be catching a cold.”

“Poor Alex,” said Laurens.

“Yes, yes. I know,” Alexander waved off, dropping Laurens' hands and swiveling back to his own bunk with a blunt fluidity that was characteristic of everything he did. “Now! Do you want to tell me what you think Lee was discussing with Ward earlier this morning?” He settled onto his mattress and Laurens did the same, silently remarking to himself that the straw inside should be replaced soon, before the first snowfall.

“I’m sure he’s sleeping on feathers tonight,” Alexander added. “Not that he deserves it.”

“I was thinking the same thing, just now,” Laurens supplied.

“About that fool Lee?”

“No, about-- about the mattresses. Lee did have the most experience, though, when he was appointed.”

“Yes, and he still ranked only…” Alexander cleared his throat as his voice lost its strength, and then he cleared it again. “Only third back then, too.” He remained seated, his expression restless in contrast to his weary posture.

“He hardly deserved that either,” Laurens said. “All of the prestige and accommodations that come with rank--”

“--all so he can be well-rested enough tonight to push his ineffective ideas tomorrow,” finished Alexander.

“He’s also not getting sick.”

Alexander paused. “I’d put his title to better use, that’s for sure,” he said. Laurens, although he was lying down, could hear the rustle of straw as Alexander shifted. “But are you implying that I’d be better suited for his accommodations alone?”

“Well, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Alexander agreed. “But only because it would mean Lee wouldn’t have them.”

As he smiled, Laurens said, “You sound like a child.”

“I’d rather be here anyway,” Alexander decided. “You know I would miss your company dearly, spending the cold nights alone during a time like this.”

-

The morning brought with it another chill, accompanied by a cloudy sky that promised a storm at worst, and at best an indicator that the air wouldn’t get much warmer as the afternoon approached. Laurens was awake by dusk, and unsurprised to see his bunkmate Alexander already dressed and looking ready to head out.The two of them often coordinated schedules and spent their days stationed upon tasks together, save for...

“I was called to draft a few letters regarding reinforcements,” he told Laurens, “so I likely won’t see you again until just before lunch.”

It was all Laurens could do to keep from practically cooing in response. “Listen to you!” he said, his own voice husky with sleep yet still a great deal smoother than Alexander’s. “You must be feeling terrible. Do you feel terrible?”

“I’m all right,” said Alexander after shaking his head. “I was up with the storm overnight, but I’m sure I’ll sound better once I have…” His voice faded out again, shaking a little this time, before he turned aside and sneezed behind his right hand.

“Bless you,” Laurens responded, sitting up with his eyebrows raised.

“Thank you.” Alexander snapped back up, determined to continue his sentence when a second sneeze stole him again. They often came in pairs, and Laurens wondered why Alexander never waited the second one out. He supposed Alexander rarely waited for anything, and there was hardly a reason that sneezing should be the exception.

“Bless you, Alex,” Laurens repeated.

“Thank you,” Alexander all but groaned this time. “Excuse me.” He pulled a utilitarian handkerchief out of his pocket and used it with a wince while Laurens rooted through his own things and pulled out a couple of his own to hand over to his friend.

“You should take these with you,” he said. “I don’t know if one will be enough.”

Alexander wore his heart on his sleeve almost constantly, and the fondness in his expression shone through the exasperation. “My dear,” he addressed Laurens, and God, his voice had sounded bad moments ago but he was toeing the line of unintelligible now. His words still had yet to lose their charm. “Please. This happens with the changing of seasons. I’m okay.”

“Then just give them back to me over lunch,” Laurens reasoned. “I won’t be needing them. Let it act as an insurance.”

“I hardly think of the exchanging of handkerchiefs as a polite mealtime activity,” protested Alexander as he accepted the offering anyway, stuffing the white cloth into his pocket with a useless sniffle.

-

“How is our Alexander?” Lafayette asked Laurens later that morning. “You are the one sleeping with him, after all.”

Laurens balked. “Sleeping with--!”

“Pardon, _je suis_ _désolé_ , excuse me. You know what I mean,” Lafayette corrected quickly, his speech rapid as if he were flustered, but his sly grin communicated otherwise. That was part of the issue; Laurens _did_ know what he meant. If it had been anyone else, Laurens would have felt a sharp bloom of anxiety erupting in his stomach.

“I saw him not too long ago,” Lafayette continued as they walked through the camp. “He was on his way to another tent.”

“To work,” Laurens supplied.

“Yes! Yes, of course, why else does he go anywhere or do anything,” Lafayette laughed. “But he seemed very sick. He was very…” Lafayette paused. He rarely struggled with the language barrier by now, having lived in America for as long as he had been, but he always took it in stride when it did happen.

Laurens watched patiently as Lafayette started moving his hand in a lazy circle around the center of his face. “What is the polite way to say…?”

“Congested,” Laurens guessed.

“Yes! Oh my God,” Lafayette confirmed. “Very badly, I could hardly understand him. Has he been ill for long?”

“No,” Laurens said.

“Then he _will_ be ill for long,” Lafayette predicted. “You know how he is, constantly working himself into the ground.”

“He said he thought he might be coming down with something last night,” Laurens told him. “Maybe it’s a step in the right direction? He never would have admitted anything was wrong before. It’s almost out of character.”

“Alexander is not stupid,” Lafayette replied. “He has hidden an illness from us before, no? And he did not get away with it -- it only got him into more trouble.”

Fleetingly, Laurens thought that this meant Alexander might have trusted them enough to take care of him in case he himself wasn’t up for doing just that.

-

From outside the tent, he heard Alexander sneezing. The sound was unmistakably him not only by volume but also by its insistent vocal quality -- Alex always seemed to have trouble keeping his voice out of anything.

“God bless you, Lieutenant Colonel,” Laurens said impishly as he poked his head inside, greeted face to face with his dear friend hunched over a desk housing a pile of ink and paper.

“Thank you,” Alexander murmured, not skipping a beat as he scrawled letters onto the page in front of him. He didn’t look up from his work when he asked, “Is there something you need?”

It was almost like he was in a trance, with his social graces on autopilot. This was not necessarily unusual for Alexander while he was writing, but Laurens guessed that he could have been in some sort of fog, his senses dulled from his illness and his mind a little slower than it would be on a better day.

“Yes! I need my handkerchiefs back? I believe I loaned you several,” Laurens continued. This captured Alexander’s focus, and he looked up at Laurens through his eyelashes before his face lit up in recognition and he tilted his head up all the way.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” he echoed with a bright grin.

Fondly, Laurens rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he replied, walking over to the desk and tugging Alexander up by the arm. “You were missing at the mess tent. I had to go and find you.”

“How chivalrous! Picking me up and taking me to a nice meal,” mused Alexander as he took off his glasses and slid them into his breast pocket.

“Yes, a nice meal of hardtack and beans served on second grade pewter that I apparently _need_ to take you to because you’ll forget to feed yourself otherwise.” Laurens lazily slung a friendly arm over his shoulders as they began to leave the tent.

“That’s unfair!” said Alexander. “I got distracted. I eat plenty.”

Laurens stepped back, creating distance between them without removing his hand from Alexander’s back. He made a show of looking Alexander up and down as though he was assessing his friend’s frame.

“Falsification isn’t a good look on you, Ham. You don’t wear it convincingly,” he finally said as they stepped onto the damp ground, feeling the shudder of his friend’s shoulders as the autumn winds knocked against them. “You said there was a storm overnight?”

“You must have slept through it,” Alexander answered, his voice muted and distant. Laurens knew he’d always had trouble doing the same.

“Did you get much sleep at all, then?” Laurens asked. “How is your cold now?”

“It’s…” Alexander started to say, but his breath caught on the word and an urgent sneeze answered for him.

Laurens made eye contact when Alexander came back up. He nodded in understanding.

“It’s fine, I was trying to say,” Alexander continued. “Bad timing.”

“You are sneezing a lot, though,” remarked Laurens.

“I’m sick,” Alexander replied, sounding almost defensive. Laurens responded by pulling him in closer so that their shoulders knocked against each other brashly.

“Let’s see if we can eat by the fire,” Laurens suggested. “Something warm and dry will have you back to yourself in no time.”

**Author's Note:**

> my friend showed me this link to a letter hamilton wrote talking about how he had a cold (nice) and in the end it gave me the push to finally post this somewhere instead of wasting time staring at the doc all day long for like a week


End file.
